


today more than any other day

by agorafobia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Punk, Bisexuality, Drugs, F/F, F/M, M/M, Matching anchor tattoos, Underage Drinking, Werewolf puns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2014-11-19
Packaged: 2018-02-22 07:44:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2500058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agorafobia/pseuds/agorafobia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek Hale has always been in love with Scott McCall. </p><p>Scott McCall is <i>apparently</i> dating Stilinski. </p><p>It's horrible.</p><p>OR the one where their packs came together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	today more than any other day

**Author's Note:**

> my intention is to cover most of the ships on the show in a human verse where they would listen to punk and smoke weed and be _teenagers_. ♥
> 
> title from the song, of the same name, by ought (which is very much about being prepared to be yourself and really believing things will be OKAY, the basis of this story tbh)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a wink, a party and a sleeping romeo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is written from derek, cora and erica's POV.
> 
> next one should be of lydia, allison, and stiles. those will be definitely more punk.
> 
> scott's will probably be the last one since he's the prince everybody loves and holds all the secrets ♥
> 
> (unbetaded? is that a word. anyway, be aware of mistakes)

The Hales don’t take the bus to school, they walk.

Cora Hale, sixteen, despises all humans outside of her family. Derek Hale, seventeen, does not enjoy the noise that usually accompanies large groups of teenagers. Laura Hale, twenty, runs through Beacon Hills every morning due to an overwhelming incapacity of getting out of bed on time. The Hale house is only a few miles away from Beacon Hills’ high school, half hidden by the tall forest trees, built by the calloused hands of their ancestors. On this particular Friday Derek stays a couple of feet behind his younger sister, watching in delight the way her ballerina feet dance around every living and breathing thing; Cora would break your nose but she would _never_ step on an ant. They march in silence, aside from Derek’s whistling in response to unknown birdcalls, until they enter school grounds by a clearing that leads to the lacrosse field. Cora snorts as Derek’s body starts to tremble in anticipation. A shout of their last name and Derek’s eyes follow his sister’s hand as she waves dismissively at Isaac Lahey, sixteen, who is all giant limbs and white teeth. Next to Isaac is queen bee Lydia Martin, in her cheerleader outfit, giggling at something Allison Argent, her girlfriend and chief editor of the Beacon Times, seems to be whispering against her neck. Closely behind is Stilinski, pale and weird and half asleep, with a joint between his lips as per usual. And then, _finally_ , Derek’s eyes find him… Scott McCall. It is entirely possible that a pained sigh escapes through Derek’s mouth and his sister doesn’t miss it. “Pathetic,” She muses.

Unrequited love is hardly pathetic. Tragic? Most certainly. Derek has been in love with Scott McCall since kinder garden, where they shared first sloppy, and fairly magical, kisses. Well, if Derek’s feeling truly romantic he will tell you he was _born_ loving Scott McCall — since Talia Hale and Melissa McCall crossed paths at the hospital’s front door on a cold Thursday seventeen years ago — but he kind of stopped saying such things after Erica Reyes, his excuse of a best friend, slapped him hard across the right cheek and told him to “man up”. Derek hopes “man up” means you should suffer in silence, something he has mastered over the years when it comes to Scott McCall and his crooked jaw, and lust from a safe distance. All was _okay_ until the school’s principal made Cora join the lacrosse team, as a punishment for punching a freshman, and now Isaac Lahey seems to be smitten with her disdain which means Derek is, by proxy, on Scott McCall’s radar. And every time Scott McCall doesn’t acknowledge Derek’s existence it feels like _rejection_.

“See you at five, loser.” Cora slaps the back of Derek’s head playfully as they part ways.  

 

Kira Yukimura, seventeen, black belt in a variety of martial arts and fashionista, is reading a book on wild animals by Derek’s locker.

“Ohayõ,” She greets him with her bubbly smile.

“I like your lady Thor leggings.”

“Well, thank you.”

“New print?”

“Yeah, I worked on some new designs with Lydia.”

Derek makes a sour face.

“And yes, before you ask, I bare news of your prince.”

Derek closes his locker and lets his head fall against it, exhaling loudly, “Do I want to know.”

“Apparently, and I say apparently because _not even_ Lydia is certain of this, he is not officially dating Stilinski.”

“What do you mean he’s not _officially_ dating Stilinski?” Derek’s voice is a little too panicky.

Kira tilts her head to the side, “Who do you think is painting Stilinski’s neck all shades of purple?”

“Not Scott?”

A mane of wild blonde hair hits Derek’s shoulder. Behind his dark aviator glasses Erica whispers, “You’re in denial.”

“Understandably. Should I also be searching for AA meetings in Beacon County?”

“My mom goes to church,” She shrugs.

Kira chuckles, “Makes perfect sense to me.”

The first bell rings and Erica whines. She hooks her arms around Derek’s torso and announces they will be sitting at the back and he will let her sleep _or else_.

Derek doesn’t register the first half hour of the class. Erica is snoring lightly at his side, head hiding behind her enormous purse. All his thoughts seem to circle around the fact that there is a chance, a fat one at that, of Stilinski being Scott’s boyfriend. There has been gossip, of course. Partly because _no one_ in school understands how Scott McCall could be single, mostly because the two of them are _always_ together and seem to have zero boundaries when it comes to personal space. Scott will hover protectively over Stilinski, like he is some wounded woodland creature, and Derek hates it. There is something wrong about that guy, something… _Unnerving_. It’s in his eyes, the way he will look at you with a foreign hunger. Scott McCall is, for a fact, the nicest person on earth — when Isaac’s father, who had been abusive to his children all his life, died in a car accident Scott was the one who took the kid under his wing. The McCall’s ended up adopting Isaac because of Scott, sharing the little they had like he was their own flesh, and he actually called him _brother_. When Allison’s aunt was involved in a shocking pedophilia case Scott had climbed up on a lunch table and serenated Allison, in front of the whole school, with terrible renditions of romantic pop punk songs just to make her smile. He did this _every day_ for _months_. There was Scott, the first person to speak to Kira when she transferred from New York, and then there was Stiles Stilinski. Who, for all Derek knew, had a criminal record for dealing pot. Even if it was just sexual, Derek couldn’t see the appeal. Sure, there were the pink cheekbones and those thin lips and the eyes... Those evil eyes that are now staring back at Derek’s. 

“You’re a Hale.”

Derek frowns, “I am.”

“I don’t remember you being in this class.”

“I usually sit at the front.”

“Oh. Figures.” Stilinski smirks and it’s infuriating. He nods towards Erica, “I do remember her though. She was drinking tequila out of Boyd’s stomach last night.”

Derek shakes his head in disapproval but can’t fight a small smile. At least she’s living the so-called best years of her life, unlike him, who is mostly just killing time.

“Listen, there’s a party tonight at Lydia’s. I was asked to talk to your sister but I’m not feeling school today, you know?” Derek does not know. “So I probably won’t see her. Pass the message, will you.”

“Cora doesn’t like parties,” Derek says, weirdly hurt. He has never been to one of Lydia Martin’s infamous parties but it’s not something he desires. He enjoys his own, low key, hang outs at the Beacon Hills’ Preserve where his friends share stories and swim naked in the lake after burning marshmallows. Stilinski’s evil eyes seem to be searching, searching… “What.”

“You can come if you want.”

Derek rolls his eyes, “No thanks.”

They stare at each other for a second too long and Stilinski smiles, smiles like he _knows_ something.

The bell rings again and he stands up, “Suit yourself.”

Derek sighs and pokes Erica’s ribs awake. 

 

At lunch all everybody talks about is the party. Scott’s clique had invited whoever was somehow connected to Cora and Derek can’t wait to pest her about it once the day is over. Kira is raving about her outfit for the night and Derek trails off with her book. Wolves are born blind, who knew. After lunch is over Erica and Derek, who have the rest of the afternoon free, sit on a cement bench behind school, sharing Derek’s headphones; the day is hot and Erica convinces him to French braid her hair as they sing-a-long to The Mountain Goats.

“We’re going tonight, right?”

“Not my scene.”

“You don’t have a scene.” Erica turns her head around to face him, “Scott’s going to be there.”

“Very likely.”

“You need to…”

Derek cuts her with a sigh, “Man up. I know.”

“Are you afraid your illusion of the almighty Scott McCall might shatter?”

“Not possible.”

Erica scoffs, “Derek. I know he’s _dreamy_. I would have hit that like the angry fist of a Goddess if I didn’t love you like I do. And he is a nice person, sure. But he _isn’t_ perfect.”

“I’m not looking for perfection.”

“Well, _what_ are you looking for? Because I haven’t seen you even _try_ to get close to him.”

He wants Scott, it’s true. He also wants to _matter_. Call it middle child syndrome if you like. He may be a romantic fool but he can think rationally, he knows how it would be if Scott loved him back; he would have to share him with the world. Dating Scott McCall meant dating his whole group of friends — _the anchors_ , as some people at school calls them, due to their matching anchor tattoos — and then _some_. He wouldn’t come first. He would always be the one to love more, more, and so much more and he doubts Scott could make that feeling go away.

“I don’t know, dude. Now stay still ‘cause I’m almost done here.”

Erica bobs her head to the song, he yells for her to stop and grunts as it only makes it worse. Erica is wiggling like an idiot between Derek’s legs and one minute they are joking around with no one around the other Allison Argent is sitting on the grass in front of them, cigarette dangling between her teeth, looking up at them with a smile, “You’re so cute.”

Erica laughs, head thrown back against Derek’s shoulder, “Damn straight.”

“Hale,” Allison lights the cigarette and inhales “How’s the Lana del Rey versus American Mythology piece coming?”

He has been working at the Beacon Times for a couple of years now, reviewing books and records, and writing think pieces only Allison cares about. They’re not friends, more like colleagues, but Derek likes her; likes the way she takes no shit and fights for what she thinks is right, the soft and down to earth way of her speech, how she holds Lydia Martin’s wrist through the corridors. Before Allison, Lydia had been bitter and arrogant and would snap at whoever looked her the wrong way. It was a mask, Derek knows. Then they came together and they were _happy_ and Derek often found himself wistfully staring at them, staring at something so similar to what he longs for: partnership. No pedestals. Not that Lydia doesn’t look at Allison as if she is the last Cola on the desert, she does. But Allison looks at Lydia the _exact same way_. They talk about Ultraviolence and Twin Peaks and how Lana del Rey is basically “selling” herself as Laura Palmer until Erica gets bored — she excuses herself saying she’s hungry but Derek knows her face better than his own. Allison rolls another cigarette and Derek notices, for the first time, a tiny blue anchor stamped onto the white of the filter.

“Wow. You guys really take the whole anchor thing seriously.” He’s _not_ jealous.

Allison smiles, shrugging one shoulder, “It was Stiles’ idea. This is his brand.”

“He has a _tobacco_ brand?”

“Well, sort of. He started planting it at his dad’s farm for kicks but now we smoke it. It’s completely natural, no additives.”

“So, it won’t kill you.”

Allison laughs and shakes her head. He almost wants to ask to try it; that’s what _Scott_ smokes, what his mouth tastes like. Derek’s not into smoking but he’s terribly into the idea of tasting Scott. Once Braeden, Boyd’s older sister and Laura Hale’s best friend, who works part time at the local liquor store, said Scott McCall was always coming in for peach snaps. That very night Derek raided his parents’ liquor cabinet and ended up in bed before ten with a sweet tongue and an aching boner. If Allison notices the redness that grows from his cheeks to his ears she doesn’t say a thing about it. Instead she mentions the party, as Isaac shadows the sun close by.

“You should really come, Hale.”

She smiles, smiles like she knows _something_. And then a wink. A _fucking wink_. As soon as she gets up and turns around Derek fumbles to get his cellphone out of his backpack and texts Cora saying he’s going home with Erica and that he’ll see her at Lydia’s party.  

*

 

Cora Hale reads Derek’s text and shakes her head, “Pathetic.” Malia Hale, Cora’s partner in crime and daughter of her insane uncle, holds both their lacrosse gears as they wait in line for lemonade at Satori’s vegan café.

“Derek’s going to the thing.”

Malia seems confused, “Why would that be pathetic?”

“Well, he’s only going because of Scott.”

“And?”

“And, I don’t know, being in love is stupid?”“

"Ugh, _boys_.” Malia makes a face, mockingly.

There’s nothing _wrong_ with Isaac Lahey. He is, objectively and as Malia so gracefully puts it, _a babe_. He’s fragile and tender but on the field Cora can see how _primal_  he can be, the way his eyes darken with the idea of metaphorical bloodshed. Or actual bloodshed, how would she know. Brett hands them their drinks, Cora pays and they leave side by side. The sun is still warm as the afternoon stretches itself to an end.  

Malia wrinkles her nose, “Dude, we stink.”

 

At home, and after a much-needed shower, Cora lies next to Malia on her bed and flips idly through Derek’s old history notes. Her mind keeps replaying the way her cousin had joked about boys being disgusting, Isaac’s stutter after practice telling Cora about the party like he genuinely had no idea about the stunt his friends had been playing all day, and the color that seems to paint all her thoughts as of late: _strawberry blonde_. Malia catches her ankle mid air, “Spit it.” Cora knows nothing would change on the outside, she _knows_ this, but saying it out loud? It feels pretty fucking life changing. And she’s not even sure.

“I’m not even sure,” She sighs.

Malia takes their old, and shared, laptop from her lap, _Alvvays_ ’ record filling their silence, and falls half on top of Cora’s body.

“What if you try it?” She half whispers a couple of songs later.

“Both?”

“Yes, both.”

Cora’s voice is small, “And what if I like _both_?”

“Man, that’s the dream!” She smiles, a little devious, “More options.”

“Ugh, don’t joke.”

“I’m not!” Malia looks up at the ceiling where they have painted a dark, starless sky, “We grew up with all these notions of love, right. _Soul mates_. We see it all the time on TV. Every song is about it. Love, love, _love_. Chemical reactions or fate,” She shrugs “It’s too big for us to control it.”

Cora moves Malia’s arm so she can hide her face in her armpit, “Malia Hale, you’re wise beyond your years.”

They kick at each for a while until they’re giggling like tiny girls. It’s true though; Malia has a way of simplifying what Cora complicates, which is, in her eyes, such an adult thing to do. She jumps out of the bed and starts lighting scented candles all over the bedroom. Cora opens up a window and looks down; from the first floor of the house she can see her mother tending to the front garden, taking advantage of the last light of the day. Her father must be in his study and uncle Peter, well, no one ever knows where he is. Malia flops back into bed and lights a joint with her wolf shaped lighter, passing it to Cora after two drags. They smoke half of it, following the smoke trail with their fingers, then hide the rest in Malia’s jewelry box next to her mom's pearls.

“You don’t have to leave,” Malia sings, “You could just stay here with me, forget all the party police,”

Cora joins in, “We could find comfort in debauchery.” 

 

When Talia Hale calls them for dinner they’re both asleep.

 

*

 

After five beers and a blue shot of some kind Derek is officially buzzed. Cold War Kids’ _Hang Me Up To Dry_ plays spectacularly loud from the ridiculously huge stereo in Lydia’s living room; it reverberates through the mansion, pouncing fiercely from the tip of Erica’s fingers against Derek’s thigh as they dance together. When he arrived the party was already in full swing and he would have turned around if it weren’t for Boyd, seventeen and Erica's maybe-boyfriend, who caught his arm and dragged Derek to the garden. They stayed by the pool dodging slippery bodies and discussing baseball while Erica kept bringing them beers from inside; Derek’s head was like a fucking satellite. Somewhere between the third and forth beer he stopped looking around for Scott McCall and took up Erica’s advice of just _letting go_. Kira is close by, in a silver dress, dancing with Danny Mãhealani, the captain of the lacrosse team, who howls as The Knife’s _A Tooth For An Eye_ hits them. Lydia climbs onto a metal coffee table at the center of the room, sex emanating from her every little languid move; it’s so effortless, the _pull_ she has, every head turned in her direction. Derek catches Allison’s eye and waves with a smile. She’s by a window talking to someone with its back to the crowd. As Derek starts turning to take a beer from Boyd’s hands one of the strobe lights falls onto Allison’s company, illuminating a red hoodie, like a beacon. _Scott McCall’s_ red hoodie.

“He’s here!” He shouts, his breath hot against Erica’s ear. She grins devilishly and pushes him, with her hips, towards where Allison and Scott are standing. Derek starts to complain but to no use since soon enough he is back to back with Scott; he can feel the heat and sweat, delicious heat and delicious sweat, coming from his body. For a second Derek entertains the idea of just grabbing Scott by the shoulders, dig his fingers onto his skin, spin him around and plant the filthiest kiss on his lips. What’s the worst that could happen?

“You get punched!” Erica grins.

Derek frowns, “Are you in my head?”

She laughs, hanging from his neck, “You’re such an idiot. I love you.”

The music tones down a little, to Spectral’s _Take Your Magic Out Of My House_ , thank god because Derek was way too close to ripping his shirt off. It’s so damn hot inside, he doesn’t know how Scott can breathe in that hoodie. Scott. _Scott McCall_. Erica seems to read his thoughts and mouths "go". Derek takes a deep breath and reaches slowly, so _so_ slowly, for Scott's shoulder. He doesn't care that his hand is shaking. He doesn't care that he doesn't have a thing to say to Scott. It doesn't matter. It doesn't even matter because when he turns around Derek flinches away in something close to horror.

“You are wearing his clothes now? Unbelievable.”

Stilinski’s eyes go sharp, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Derek shrugs, boiling.

“Yeah, I did. Not sure if I _like_ it.”

“Okay boys,” Allison moves slightly in between them, “Lydia will kick your asses if she even so much as smells trouble. _Relax_.”

She says the last word to Stilinski in particular and Derek notices his hands are trembling. She entwines her fingers with his. Stilinski is like a ticking time bomb and he’s wearing Scott McCall’s hoodie and _smelling_ like him; anchor cigarettes and peach snaps. Derek feels trapped by the noise, the alcohol in his blood, his childish  _crush_.

“I’m leaving,” He barks back at Erica, already walking towards the front door.

He thinks he hears Stilinski calling out his name but doesn’t look back. 

 

In Beacon Hills everything is _just around the corner_. It takes him less than thirty minutes to get from Lydia’s house to the edge of the preserve, where his family’s property begins. His hands are shoved so harshly inside his pockets there’s a chance he’s going to rip the fabric with his fists. He shouldn’t be this angry, this _jealous_. He knows he shouldn’t. But he’s so full of _hate_ he can feel tears at the corners of his eyes. Cora is right, he _is_ pathetic. He wanted so badly for Allison’s wink earlier that day to have meant something, was so desperate for undertones that he let himself hope. What was he expecting? What would a night, a _party_ , change? 

The lights of the front porch are on. He jiggles his keys and stops, like he has been shocked.

“Derek?”

His heart starts beating so fast it’s going to burst and paint the forest red.

He looks around for the familiar voice whispering his name.

“We’re here.”

A couple of uneasy steps to the right and, sure enough, Scott McCall is laying down on the grass, hands behind his head. There’s a sleeping body curled up next to him.

“Scott McCall.”

Scott chuckles, “You sound drunk.”

“Only barely. And you’re here.” He points at his house “I live here,” He says it more like a question and Scott chuckles again.

“I’m pretty sure you do, yeah.”

“Why are _you_ here?”

Scott turns his head slightly towards the sleeping boy, “Isaac wanted to pull a Romeo on your sister when it became clear she wasn’t going to show up at Lydia’s. He had this whole speech. It was adorable.”

Derek winces, “I doubt Cora found it _adorable_.”

“Oh, he didn’t do it.”

Derek nods, “You came to talk him out of it.”

Scott clicks his tongue, “Nah. I support him, one hundred percent. No one should be denied of making a fool out of one’s self for love.”

Derek smiles, of course Scott would approve, “Then why didn’t he go through with it?”

“We couldn’t figure out which one was Cora’s bedroom.” Scott shrugs. Then, “Will you sit down? My neck is starting to hurt.”

Derek immediately falls to the ground making Scott chuckle again. Smooth, very smooth. 

“Isn’t it sweet? First loves,” He smiles, more to himself, like he’s remembering, “You can’t even think straight. Everything becomes life or death.”

Derek blushes, “Don't I know it.”

“When I saw Ally for the first time, man. I thought I was having a heart attack.”

Ally? As in _Allison_?

“I thought you were,” Derek starts to say then bites his tongue. He doesn’t know why he thought Scott was gay. Instead he says, “I thought Allison was gay.”

“I’d say we’re all pretty queer,” Scott shrugs with a smile. Everything looks so effortless to him, _simple_. It seems like he feels everything but, unlike Derek, doesn't get crushed by it. Isaac stirs, mumbles something, and Derek watches him with fingers crossed behind his back. _Please don't wake up, please don't wake up, please don't wake up._ Scott looks at his brother with distinct fondness, takes a cigarette from his shirt pocket and lights it, exhaling with a sigh. 

“I wish we had some music.”

“I can go and get my iPod deck, if you want.”

“Dude, that would be awesome.”

Derek gets up, not so graciously, and takes maybe two steps before stopping. He looks back at Scott, “Will you be here when I get back?”

His voice is small, maybe too small. 

Scott smiles his easy smile, “I don’t have anywhere else to be.”   

 

On his way from his bedroom, holding the iPod deck against his chest and debating which song should he play first, Derek almost screams at the sight of a black shadow standing in the hallway. Cora walks to him, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“Fuck, you scared me half to death!” He winces.

“Relax.”

“Nope, not possible. Scott is outside.”

Cora seems to fully wake up at that, “ _Your_ Scott?”

Derek rolls his eyes so hard he almost pulls a muscle.

“Why would Scott McCall be outside? Oh my God, Derek!”

Derek frowns, “What is happening to your face.”

“I’m excited for you. This is my excited face.”

“It’s terrifying. Plus, you call me pathetic every morning.”

“Because you never made a move! Be quiet though you know mom is a light sleeper.”

“What? I’m not – he’s not coming _in_.”

“First time and already breaking the law, nice.”

“Oh for the love of, listen: I’m not having sex with Scott McCall.”

“I don’t understand. Didn’t you two come together from the party?”

“No, he was _already_ here. He’s with Isaac.”

Cora’s mouth goes perfectly round, “Explain in detail.”

“I don’t have the _time_! Scott McCall, who is outside _right now_ , wants music!”

“And Isaac?”

“Sleeping.”

“Isaac is sleeping outside.”

“Stop repeating what I say, it’s annoying.”

“You’re annoying.”

“Ugh.”

Malia pops her head from inside the bedroom, “What is going on?”

“Scott and Isaac are outside,” Cora tells her.

“Doing?”

“Goddamn it,” Derek pinches the bridge of his nose, “Isaac came here to serenade Cora, okay, but then he couldn’t figure out which was your window and chickened out. I don’t know why they stayed here or why Isaac fell asleep,”

“He was probably sleepy,” Malia points out.

Cora nods, “Makes sense.”

“Fuck this, I have to go. Scott McCall was telling me about his first love!!!!!” He almost shouts and both girls shush him. Which, by the way, it’s _not_ Derek. It doesn’t sting. So what if their first kisses as children meant nothing for Scott. From the end of the hall another head pops out.

“Some of us have work in the morning.”

Malia grins, “Scott McCall is outside!”

“Uuuuuuuh,” Laura coos, joining them. “Do you want some advice?”

“For what? Wait, no. We’re just _talking_.”

Laura crosses her arms, pouting, “That’s boring.”

“Bye, now. Go back to sleep,” He points his index at them “All of you.”    

 

*

 

Erica Reyes, seventeen and radical feminist, wakes up to a wall of muscle and soft skin crushing her against the mattress. She tries to push Boyd away but quickly gives up, sighing. "Vernon, you're killing me." She pokes at his eyes. "Vernon. Vernon!" She screams in his ear. He blinks up at her, ever so calm, and rolls to the side going promptly back to sleep. Erica reaches for her phone on the nightstand, grimacing at the memory of Derek storming off of Lydia's house. Knowing he won't pick up his cellphone she phones the Hale house. Malia's _hello_ sounds more like _yellow_.

"Hi, it's Erica."

"Hey. Derek is still in his bedroom."

Erica sits up, "But it's almost eleven."

Derek doesn't sleep in nor stays in bed just because. He is the sort of person who wakes up at seven on a saturday to jog around the preserve and by eight will be knocking on her door with his homemade smoothies. She can almost hear Malia biting her lip,

"I don't know what happened but he has been listening to _Hospice_ pretty loudly."

"Oh God," Erica lets her head fall down and rubs her forehead, "I'll get there as soon as I can."

"I'll tell aunt Talia you're coming for lunch."

"Thanks."

 

When Erica gets to the Hale house, Cora and Malia are on the porch soaking up the sun with a book, their hair tangled together. Sometimes it's hard to tell where one of the girls starts and the other ends. Cora greets her with a sigh of relief, waving for her to go right in. Erica walks up the stairs two at a time straight to Derek's bedroom. The door is closed but there's really no point in knocking. It takes a couple of seconds for her eyes to adjust to the darkness then there's a shape of a body in the bed and from said body comes a grunt, "Go away." Erica walks around him to the window and opens the curtains enough to see Derek's face. She immediately feels like shit for not having followed him the night before because he looks _miserable_. Without a word she goes for his dresser, changes from her jeans and top to one of his old grey sweatpants and tee shirt. Derek pulls the bed covers back to let her in. Erica lays on her back, on the very edge of the mattress giving him space but he immediately pulls her closer, one arm under her body, and buries his face on the crook of her neck. She pets his hair, waiting.

Derek and Erica became friends after she had aggressively pursued him. At first he seemed confused by her advances, like he couldn't believe someone would find him desirable, which only made her like him more. He had such a ruinable thing about him; the way he walked through the school's corridors with his broad shoulders hunched, gorgeous green eyes hiding behind a book, mumbling to whoever approached him, eating lunch by himself. He was like a mountain trying to pass unnoticed at the top of a valley. It was very endearing to watch him blush and squirm under her gaze. Then two little words, whispered in a pained whisper, changed everything. Not because she couldn't have him the way she wanted but because she could see Derek was trusting her with something _precious,_ something that was being said for the first time.Derek, romantic sap that he is, likes to say that was when they actually saw each other. 

Incidentally, Derek's older sister was Laura, the coolest girl in Beacon Hills. Erica had spent her early teens in awe of everything Laura was and did; her long auburn hair always dyed a different color, the side of her index finger stained yellow from smoking, the sound of her black doc martens crushing the patriarchy. Laura and Braeden were _loud_ , fearless, forces to be reckon with. The first time Erica was at the Hale house and saw Laura's bedroom she felt like she was stepping inside sacred grounds, like those people who fly for miles to pray at a wall. When Erica talked about shaving her head Derek was the only one who said, "If that's what you _really_ want." Derek was the one who threw Erica's copy of Rancid's  _...And Out Come The Wolves_  out. He was very nonchalant about it but all those little things helped, they — _he_  really helped her be no one but _herself_. She was still trying to find out who that was exactly but having Derek by her side made it not only easier but exciting, for they were both in it _together_. It is Erica's duty to push him, to question his feelings for Scott, to know that this moping is about something else entirely.

She keeps playing with Derek's hair, "How can I make it better?"

"You can poison my lunch."

"Ha ha," Erica dugs at his hair a little, "You can't let Stilinski get to you like this."

"This isn't because of him." 

"Then what?"

Derek takes a deep, pained breath, "Scott was here last night and we talked for a little while and he wanted music so I came inside for my deck and he said he would wait, like, he said he had nowhere else to be, but then I got out and he was gone."

"What was he doing here?"

"He came with Isaac because of Cora. Isaac was sleeping. I don't know why. Don't ask me what I don't know."

"So, let me get this straight: you come home to find Scott McCall and Isaac Lahey sleeping."

"Only Isaac was sleeping," Derek corrects her.

"You and Scott talked, which, for the record, is great and we shall celebrate. You came inside to get music because Scott wanted music."

"Probably an excuse to get rid of me..." 

Erica slaps his head softly, "Idiot."

"He said he would _wait._ And he didn't."

Erica turns on her side so she's face to face with her best friend, "Call me Sherlock 'cause I'm about to deduce."

Derek chuckles, eyes dangerously bright.

"Isaac woke up. He was all, "Scott! Why was I sleeping! So strange!" and Scott was like "Shhh, my bae Derek is coming with one of the  _many_ playlists he made while imagining this very moment. He's going to seduce me so hard, Isaac." But Isaac was embarrassed! He wanted to leave! And of course Scott McCall wouldn't let his baby brother wonder around the woods by himself."

"Why couldn't they wait to tell me they were going?"

"Ask him on Monday," Erica shrugs, "I don't have all the answers."

Derek whines, covering his face with Erica's hands.

"Oh, my poor little pessimist. You didn't realize you now have an excuse to talk to Scott again? Although, Scott should be the one coming to _you_ since he's at fault here. Either way, we don't even have to wait until Monday!"

"What do you mean?"

"I _mean_ ," Erica pokes Derek's chest with her index, "You know where he lives, where he hangs out... We can track him down."

"No. No, no, _nein_."

A soft knock on the door interrupts them before Erica can persuade Derek. From the other side Cora calls them for lunch. 

"You go ahead," Erica tells him, getting out of the bed, "I need the ladies' room."

Derek smiles a little and she counts it as a win that he doesn't complain, just walks in front of her with ease. When he's out of the bedroom she fumbles for her cellphone.

 

"Yukimura, pressing matters."

Kira almost gasps and Erica can almost see her whole little face changing with worry lines.

"It's OKAY. Kira, everything's okay. I just need your help."

"With what?" She still sounds anxious, "Erica, what's going on?"

"I swear I'm fine, you big baby. Calm down. I was thinking we could have a picnic tomorrow, by the lake. I need you to get Lydia and her gang to come, do you think you could do that?"

Kira chuckles, "I have my tricks. But what is this about?"

"Long story short: Derek and Scott."

"Isn't it always. I'll do my best but I want to know the long story!"

"I can't talk right now, I'll call you later. Just get them to come tomorrow."

 

If Scott McCall doesn't come to the mountain, the mountain will obliviously go to Scott McCall. Or... something.

Erica runs down the stairs, yelling "I'm coming!" to Derek's "Reyes!"


End file.
